


To Have and To Hold

by flowersforgraves



Series: please help I'm in depeche mode hell [41]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:35:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22767124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/pseuds/flowersforgraves
Summary: Connor threatens Murphy with a good time.
Relationships: Connor MacManus/Murphy MacManus
Series: please help I'm in depeche mode hell [41]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1130651
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25
Collections: Pornday





	To Have and To Hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zinc_carpenter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinc_carpenter/gifts).



> For [Pornday the Tenth](https://pornday.dreamwidth.org/), 16 Feb 2020.

"Get on the fucking floor," Connor snarls, pushing Murphy roughly into the bed so that he stumbles to his knees. "Keep your head down." He puts a hand heavily on the back of Murphy's head, pressing his face into the thin, shitty mattress.

Murphy's breath is already rough, heart beating fast with arousal. "Connor," he says, muffled by the sheets. "Connor, the fuck are you doing?"

"Teaching you a fucking lesson," Connor says, a burr in his voice that does nothing to hide how turned on he is.

Murphy twists so he can look over his shoulder at Connor. "The fuck's that supposed to mean? You think fucking me's gonna shut me up?"

Connor bites the side of his neck, hard enough to leave marks. "It fucking better," he growls, low in Murphy's ear. "You keep mouthing off and I'm goin' to hang a fucking sign on the door, Murph," Connor grits out through his teeth. "'S gonna say there's a cheap whore in here."

Murphy whines at that, pushing his hips back against Connor's legs, and Connor swallows audibly, his hard cock outlined in his jeans. "You like the sound of that? You want me to watch you get fucked by a dozen strangers? Ten dollars for your hole and five for your mouth, how's that sound?"

Connor waits a beat, and, when Murphy doesn't respond, he leans in again. "That's even pricier than it should be, but no one will come fuck a whore what only costs two dollars. And that's not good enough for you, slut."

"Nnnnnh," Murphy whimpers, almost involuntarily. He starts trying to rock his hips against the bed, desperately seeking friction on his dick. "Connor."

"Are ye gonna beg?" Connor rasps, letting their natural accent slip through. "If ye don't I'll go put up that sign, an' I'll make sure none of the cocks in your slutty hole let you come. Not 'til you're done, and you know when you're done?"

Murphy's breath is the only sound, little needy noises slipping out with the air. 

Connor shakes him by the shoulders. "Do ye? Do you know when you're done?"

"No," Murphy gasps, bites off another undignified noise. "When you decide I'm done. It's not up to me but to ye." He's losing the Bostonian accent too, slipping back into something more comfortable and familiar.

"Good," Connor says, "good, 's easier if you know yer place." He loosens his grip on Murphy temporarily, long enough to undo his belt one-handed and slide his jeans down around his ankles. "Turn over. Take off your pants, you won't need them."

Murphy obeys, tipping his chin up to expose his throat to Connor. "Please, Conn?" he asks, and neither of them are sure what he's asking for.

Connor obliges him with a deep, brutal kiss, teeth digging into Murphy's lip and tongue pushing inside his mouth. Murphy's hands stop moving while Connor kisses him, but he fumbles with his belt as soon as he realizes.

"Fuck," Connor breathes, pulling back. "Should get that sign." He stands up, letting Murphy take his jeans all the way off on his own. But as soon as Murphy's done, and rolls back onto his front, Connor kneels straddling his ass. 

Murphy can, of course, feel how hard Connor is; two layers of thin fabric -- a pair of boxers each -- do little to hide it. Connor grinds his hips down nonetheless, mutters, "I should fuck you first. I don't do seconds, and a whore like you isn't goin' to get to clean up until he's done."

Connor is suddenly glad Murphy'd had the presence of mind to turn back onto his stomach. The mattress doesn't muffle sound well, but it's better than nothing; Murphy's always been loud and they've learned through trial and error that not only are the walls thin, but the ceiling and floor are too. 

But tonight's not the time for drawing it out and really making Murphy scream. So Connor rolls his hips against Murphy's ass again, pushes his brother's shoulders down against the mattress, and leans in to whisper in his ear. "You're gonna have to be quiet, too. I'm gonna watch you take so many cocks in your tight little hole. Be a pity to shut yer mouth with a gag."

Murphy chokes back a moan, pushes his hips back upward. "Connor," he begs.

"That eager to get fucked?" Connor asks. "So fucking needy you can't even wait until we got a customer? So much of a slut you're begging me to fuck your ass before the show even starts?" He punctuates each question with an extra bit of force in his hips. His cock is leaking pre-come from the tip, and he spares a hand from holding Murphy down to slip his fingers into his boxers, coming away sticky, and hold his fingers up to Murphy's mouth. "Lick," he demands.

Murphy does, making an obscene noise that nearly has Connor orgasming right then. He brings his other hand to the base of his dick, squeezing briefly, then pulls his fingers out of Murphy's mouth with a wet sound. Murphy's tongue follows, chasing after Connor's hand, but he gives it up after Connor digs his nails into the back of his twin's neck. 

It doesn't take much more for Connor to come, just a few more thrusts of his hips and he's spilling over the back of Murphy's shirt. "Fuck, Murph," he mumbles, lifting his hands slowly from Murphy's shoulders. "Get yourself off." He rolls to the side to watch his twin.

Murphy strips his shirt off in seconds, pushes his hand into his boxers. Connor watches hungrily, taking in every inch of Murphy's body, from the tattoos they share to the way his toes curl when he comes. He pulls his boxers off too, as soon as he's done, and Connor tugs off his own clothes to match. 

They've always done this, always turned to each other first and foremost. It's no surprise that Murphy reaches for him, no surprise that Connor clings to him like they haven't seen each other in years. Nothing about Murph surprises Connor anymore, and nothing about Connor surprises Murph. They don't have to talk about it -- it's easier not to, anyway. This is just how it is. 


End file.
